Strangers Like Me
by LoVe JH writer15
Summary: A Bellarke AU based on the movie Tarzan where Bellamy and his parents end up stranded in the forests of an unknown island where tragedy strikes leaving Bellamy orphaned and then taken in by Grounders. Years later his sister and the girl he'd never been able to forget go on a voyage for answers. What will happen when they do find each other again?
1. Chapter 1

**I know I have 2 other Bellarke stories (multichapters!) but I was watching Tarzan earlier and the idea was literally plaguing me until I sat down and put it out there. I don't think it will be too long (10 chapters or so?) and it follows some aspects of the movie while changing many others. Hope you like it!**

**Some things to know: The story is set in the late 1700's or so and there are some liberties with the characters and geographical locations I've chosen.**

Chapter 1: Every Story Has Its Tragedy

The Blakes were renown worldwide as explorers, but what they really were was _lucky_. Aurora and Nathaniel Blake were a bright-eyed newlywed couple when they were lucky enough to make several investments that literally sprung gold. They amassed a small fortune quickly enough and bought several steamboats to use as they pleased. The world was expanding as new territories and lands were discovered and then colonized, like the Americas.

The Blakes were interested in more than fame or wealth, though, and after one eventful voyage to the southern tip of South America, they decided to have a family. Aurora had dreamed of a boy and girl, the perfect pair to accompany them on their adventures. A boy with Nathaniel's playful freckles and unruly hair. A girl with Aurora's fine hair and pale eyes.

Nine years later their dream had become reality. Bellamy was five when his little sister Octavia arrived. For a time the idyllic picture of family was complete, but Aurora and Nathaniel had one quality to their personalities that had brought them together while simultaneously creating a wall between them. They were _restless_. Never satisfied with one place or one thing. The family had paused their travels for several months as Aurora nursed her newborn daughter, but those months had been more than enough. Aurora was ready to set off in search of a great land historians and scientists wanted to call Australia.

The only hitch in the plan was that Octavia was not strong enough to survive any long sea voyages. She had been born premature and though her growth would normalize, she would be at risk of disease or death. The decision came down to Aurora and it can be argued that it was the wrong one, but how was she to know that trip would be her last?

Octavia was left under the care of the Blakes' closest friends: the Griffins. Jake and Abby had been blessed with their own baby, an energetic bundle of joy they named Clarke. Clarke was a year older than the tiny Octavia and was more than happy to include her in her playtime. It was like having a sister. Aurora and Nathaniel promised they'd be back in less than a month with news about Australia and the possibility of a home on the island itself. Bellamy, precocious at his age, vowed he'd return to his sister. Clarke-who had seen Bellamy as her closest confidante- wailed at his departure. The older boy pulled her into his chest and kissed her head, making another vow to her.

"When I get back, we'll get married and be in love, okay?"

Neither of them knew what love was, let alone marriage, but the words had been tossed around by the adults and they gathered the two concepts were good and pleasant. Clarke nodded excitedly and wiped her tears with a small hand.

"Okay, Bell!"

The boat left early the next morning and by the time baby Octavia woke from her afternoon nap, her family was miles of ocean away.

* * *

The waters had become turbulent and violent. The small crew of the boat was not experienced with powerful storms and the weather threw them all for a loop. When the lightning storm began and the waves grew to twice their usual size, panic permeated through the boat.

Aurora and Nathaniel tried desperately to reassure their son everything would be fine but their words failed when the ship slammed into a mid-ocean ridge, splitting the vessel into rapidly sinking pieces. Nathaniel had been a sailor once and he took control, prepared to save his family at any costs. He carried Aurora and Bellamy into one of the hanging rowboats and released them into the raging ocean below. He jumped off the boat seconds before an explosion sounded and what remained of the ship was lost to the ocean.

Bellamy was terrified but he was strong-even then- and refused to give in to tears. He helped his father row and when they eventually came to a rocky shore, the Blakes took a deep breath.

"I think we found it." Aurora breathed. "Australia."

"Yeah. Now what?"

Aurora and Nathaniel shared a look, unnoticed by their son, who had wandered down the shoreline, touching plants and flowers as he went.

"Mom, Dad, look!" he exclaimed, pointing with glee at the large tree at the top of the inclined forest.

"Think we can build a home out of that?" Aurora asked her husband.

"Something temporary enough to survive the coming months. The boat had a strict schedule. When Abby and Jake realize we have not returned they'll send help. I'm sure of it."

"Let's get started then." Aurora said, scooping Bellamy into her arms as they made their way up the hill.

* * *

The Blakes didn't know the island they had reached was not Australia but was in fact an undiscovered land mass floating hundreds of miles from the intended Australia. In fact, a large tribe of people known as Grounders were settled not too far away, accustomed to all the chaos of the wild. There were gorillas, baboons, elephants, hippopotamus, rhinoceros, and the most dangerous predator of the jungle: the leopard. The leopards of the island were malicious creatures with agility and an intelligence that made them serious threats to man.

The Grounders were led by Tristan and his wife Kala. They believed in strength and numbers and led their tribe justly, making sure each family had what they needed to live. Kala had given birth to a baby boy. His name was Ian and he was beautiful. The Grounder village was fortified by walls constructed from sturdy bark and there were always guards on duty to ensure no wild animal strolled into the camp, curious and hungry.

Unfortunately, one night when Ian was on the eve of his first birthday the guards posted were tired from a long hunt that morning. The events that unfolded were quick and painful.

Ian was entranced by a luminescent butterfly and crawled after it, not stopping at the gates were the guards were hunched over in their posts, sleeping soundly. In the darkness of the forest, a large leopard hulked through the shadows, licking its lips at the meal coming right to his paws.

Tristan and Kala woke to the sounds of screams and pained cries. The Grounder village was put on alert and the best hunters, led by Tristan, scoured the forests for the missing baby. What they found was no longer Ian. Tristan nearly vomited at the sight of his mangled son. Kala was inconsolable and cried for days on end. Finally, Tristan ordered the camp to move deeper into the forest. The leopard had taken his son and though he wished with all he had he could track the bastard and strip the pelt from its skin, he had a duty to his people and his wife would have to grieve at a safer distance.

When he told Kala to pack their things for the journey she lashed out at him, accusing him of heartlessness. How could she leave the only place with memories of her son? She ran from the camp, ignoring her husband's shouts. She ran through the forest until she was breathing heavily. She realized she had gone higher up the mountainous part of the jungle and gasped at the sight above her. Higher up the incline there was a makeshift house in a large tree.

_Another tribe? No, we have not come across any others for decades. Who else would have settled in these forests?_

Tristan would have accused her of being reckless in her grief, but Kala had always been inquisitive and she hiked up the cliff easily, her legs strong and trained in rigorous activity. She made it to the house by the time the sun was lowering in the sky.

* * *

Kala padded quietly into the house, noting the scattered items inside and blood stains on the floor. She bent to examine it and recognized the paws of a large leopard. Her eyes shut as she remembered the leopard that had taken her child from her.

"Help me." A small voice sniffled.

Kala's head snapped up. She stood and made her way deeper into the room. The blood spatter stopped with two torn bodies on one side of the room.

"Help." The same voice insisted and Kala continued walking.

What she found made her heart jump. A boy-no older than five or six- huddled behind a dresser and bed frame.

"What happened to Mom and Dad?" the boy stared up at her.

Kala's head tilted sympathetically. She wasn't sure what the words the boy was saying meant, (It didn't sound quite like the language her tribe used) but from the look of the room this boy was now an orphan and if she left him there he would be dead soon.

Kala stretched her arms out gently and the boy regarded her cautiously. He must have seen something trustworthy in her eyes because he jumped into her body, curling his arms around her and burying his head in her chest.

"They're gone, aren't they? There were a lot of screams and… Mom screamed for Dad. After that… nothing. I'm scared." The boy said.

Kala held him tighter, feeling his body shake in her arms. She assumed the boy was wondering who she was and where his parents were, but she didn't want him to see the dead bodies so she kept his head burrowed into the rough material of her top.

A low growl came from behind her and Kala didn't have to turn to know the leopard responsible for so much loss had returned. The little boy gasped and Kala shushed him, stepping back as the leopard sauntered forward. She watched the bend of its hind legs for the warning of its leap and when it came she ducked. The leopard snarled as it slammed into a bed post behind her. Kala took the opportunity to run from the house and to the outer deck. The leopard was still pursuing her and the boy in her arms was nearly sobbing in terror, but she was not deterred.

Kala almost smiled when she saw the small rowboat suspended by a rope. She checked behind her and saw the leopard was advancing on her but its back paw was tangling in the rope that held the boat. She gave it a taunting shout before jumping into the boat, laughing as the leopard yelped when the boat was released. The leopard was hung by its paw in the air and Kala didn't hesitate to jump from the rowboat the second it was on the level ground. She disappeared into the forest with the boy, prepared to confront Tristan, who was no doubt searching for her.

* * *

It wasn't easy convincing her husband to let her keep the orphaned boy but Kala did not back down and Tristan knew taking care of the child would help her cope with the death of their son so he bit back his doubts and told her they would be moving the camp the very next morning and she had to pack their tent soon.

"He won't replace our son, Kala. I hope you realize this."

"I know." She replied and Tristan sighed before leaving their tent to assist others with packing their belongings.

Kala sat the boy before her and stroked his frazzled ebony curls back.

"You're safe now, child." She murmured soothingly and though a language barrier prevented them from understanding each other, Bellamy knew the woman had saved his life and would care for him now.

He missed his parents and thoughts of the ones he'd left behind in England (Octavia, Clarke, Aunt Abby, Uncle Jake) swam in the back of his mind. Still, when Kala held her hand out he took it.

"My name's Bellamy."

She nodded.

"Bellamy?" she pointed at him and then at herself. "Kala."

"Kala." He repeated.

* * *

For more than a year the Griffins sent ships to search for their missing friends but the only thing they learned was that the boat had never checked in with a shipping port near the south of Europe. The boat must have been lost at sea but there would be no way to find survivors-if there were any.

The Griffins would raise Octavia as their own and when she was old enough they'd tell her about her parents and her older brother and depict their bravery and the way they'd loved her. She deserved to know about her family and on top of that she deserved to inherit the family fortune. On her 18th birthday Octavia as the only living Blake would become a near millionaire. Yet, she wouldn't consider herself _lucky_ not really. Not when she'd lost a part of herself before she could even walk.

For her part Clarke felt confusion. Octavia-too little to pick up on the mood changes of the adults did not feel the loss of her family as much as Clarke. Clarke would cry every once in a while and her parents would rock her in their arms, offer her treats, and stroke her golden curls but Clarke would stubbornly push such things away.

"I want Bell. Bell! Where is Bell?!"

Abby would feel her own eyes water and Jake would tell his daughter Bellamy's trip was taking longer than expected but he'd be back before she knew it.

"He better. We're getting married, Daddy."

At the two year old's ascertained words even Jake's eyes would tear.

"Sure, honey. As soon as you see him again, we can plan the wedding. Why don't you go check on Octavia? She's missing you."

Clarke was placated and eventually she stopped asking about Bellamy. Still, his memory was imprinted in some deep part of her conscious and when her parents told Octavia the story of her lost family (Octavia was twelve and skeptical of being part of a family with blonde women) Clarke listened intently. She remembered a boy-with freckles?- and she remembered a promise-marriage?-. So when Octavia was informed of her coming inheritance and announced the minute she turned 18 she would set sail for this _Australia _and find her family herself, thirteen year old Clarke bit her lip and made her decision.

"I'll go with you, O. We'll find them together."

Six years later, the time had come.


	2. Chapter 2

**I made some small changes in locale to make the story run smoother. I actually would like to thank the reviewer Harligh Quinn who mentioned the problems with the previous location. I think this will be better for all readers.**

**Oh for reference the Grounders wear clothes made of materials like what you see on the show but not so layered because the island is tropical in climate so the men wear loincloths and have tattoos with tribal markings on their chests (they mean something but that will come up later) while the women wear a sort of wrap around skirt and a top that exposes their stomachs with the tribal markings on the visible skin of their shoulders and abdomen.**

Chapter 2: Oceans Between Us

Clarke rolled her eyes for what seemed like the fiftieth time in a short span of five minutes. The steamboat was waiting expectantly for the patron of the voyage to Australia but said patron was busy sucking face with her boyfriend and ignoring the world around her.

"O, it's time to go. We should have been on open sea by now."

"Clarke, I'll be away from Jas for who knows how long! I need to soak in these final moments." Octavia returned to her lanky boyfriend's lips and Clarke counted to ten, forcing herself to remain calm.

Jasper Jordan was a good guy, an ideal match for Octavia, who was all free spirit and emotional whirlwind. Jasper was kind-hearted and low-key as well as dedicated to the lovely brunette he'd met after an embarrassing stumble outside a London shop. They were a healthy couple and Clarke didn't doubt an engagement was in the works. Octavia gushed about her dream wedding and though the times dictated the role of most women, Octavia did everything because she wanted to. Clarke was lucky enough to be offered the same liberties.

Jake and Abby Griffin were scientists, the former specializing in environmental studies and the latter in human ethics and sociology. Their daughter had learned enough from both of them to become a potent combination of the two. Octavia wanted to find her long-lost family and Clarke wanted nothing more than answers for her best friend but she had her own goals for the expedition to Australia.

There were rare flower species whispered about in the scientific community with the power to heal viruses and regular bacteria. These flowers could be cultivated on European soil and a cure to common colds or flus could be found. Additionally, studies conducted in native peoples predicted one or more tribes inhabiting a territory as great as Australia. It was considered bullshit by the big name scientists but Abby Griffin was not as swayed. She believed studying the social customs of the Australian tribes would further research on the human condition, adding to theories made by Darwin himself. Abby would have been on the voyage herself if it weren't for the deteriorating health of her husband.

Jake's immune system had begun failing him and he was sick more often than not. Clarke had originally refused to leave his side, but both parents convinced her that wasn't the right decision. Clarke should be there to support Octavia who was more of a sister than a best friend. Also, what more could she do for her father? Jake was being looked over by his wife and a private doctor hired for house calls at any hour. He had the best treatment London could offer and if that wasn't enough… Clarke didn't want to think about it. She was praying she would return with answers to social questions, cures for diseases, and Octavia's family members safe and sound. She prayed even more she'd return to a recuperated father and normalcy. Maybe it was too much to ask for.

"Alright, O, time's up. Move your ass or I'm leaving you."

Octavia broke away from Jasper and glared at her friend.

"I paid for the ship and the crew. Oh and the guide that's keeping us safe in the wild."

"And I thank you for that. The money's been counted. We're all set so if you aren't on board, I think things will run smoothly regardless."

Octavia bemusedly flipped her friend off and Clarke laughed, hugging Jasper goodbye before ascending the steps to the ship's main deck. Octavia muttered sweet words into her boyfriend's ear, pressing one more kiss of love and promises to his lips before running after the blonde on board.

As the boat began to move and the English port became dimmer and dimmer in the distance Octavia nudged Clarke with her shoulder and pouted.

"Remind me again why I couldn't wear one of my pretty dresses?"

"Because the jungles of an unknown land are no place for fineries. You want to trip on your hem and nosedive off a cliff? Or maybe break a heel of your leather boots and plummet into a pit?"

"Seems like a lot of ways to fall."

"Don't be cute, O. This voyage means a lot to both of us, but it isn't worth risking our lives. I'll be keeping an eye on you."

"Spare me the lecture. You're like a year older than me, Clarke."

"A year filled with experiences and knowledge."

Octavia burst into giggles at her friend's exaggerated tone and Clarke laughed with her.

"Look, I said I would behave so I will, but hell I'm 18! I have to have some fun, right? Especially since by the end of this trip I may be worse off than before."

The mood darkened and Clarke sighed, pulling the younger girl into her in a side hug.

"I'll always be here for you, O. We're family. You know that."

"I do, but it doesn't change the fact that I've lose a whole lot of family already."

"We'll find them."

"I know." Octavia's light blue gaze drifted over the horizon. "I'm just worried we'll find three corpses, rotting in the sun."

Clarke winced at the image.

"What did I say about pessimism?"

Octavia rolled her eyes.

"To contain it?"

"Exactly." Clarke said matter-of-factly.

"I need to take my mind off what's coming. I'm going down to our cabin."

"Tired?"

"Strangely so."

"Sleep well, O." Clarke said gently and the girl nodded before slipping down the deck into the lower level.

Clarke leaned on the railing of the boat, cerulean eyes fixed on the endless expanse of ocean and sky. For some reason, her mind went to Bellamy and she wondered what he'd look like. The brief picture in her head of five year old Bellamy was blurry at best and the only feature she clearly made out was warm brown eyes and the freckles that framed the rest of his face. He would be 23 now, several years older than her 20 years.

Did he remember her? Probably not. Bellamy had meant a lot to toddler Clarke but it wouldn't have been the same for him. He was older, more mature, and bent on traveling the world. She wouldn't mean anything to him, though her father had told her about Bellamy's parting words to her.

_He was joking. Being nice to the little girl crying after him. We were too young to make such promises and even if we find him, he won't be thinking of proposing marriage to me. We barely know each other._

Clarke wished she could convince herself of that because that night when she closed her eyes, she still dreamt of the boy with the freckles.

* * *

Bellamy bit back a laugh as his best friends Miller and Lincoln tiptoed behind the unsuspecting man washing his clothes by the stream. With a silent snicker the two suddenly jumped up with a menacing howl, startling the man so that he dropped his clothes and fell face-first into the stream. The three boys burst into raucous laughter as the man sputtered and pulled himself out of the river.

"Hey, the clothes you're wearing are clean now. We did you a favor!" Bellamy joked, running away from the stream, his friends on his tail.

"I swear that guy's going to kill us in our sleep." Miller said, breathing heavily from the long run mingled with his laughter.

"You think so? It's the second time we scared him into the stream."

"And the fourth time we scared him all together." Bellamy said, adding on to Lincoln's count.

"He's going to tell Tristan. When your name comes up…" Lincoln trailed off.

Bellamy sighed but didn't refute his friend's statement. Tristan had always had it out for him. Bellamy's mother had told him how he came to be a part of the tribe, but Bellamy had been a boy when his parents were massacred by the vicious leopard still loose in the jungle and for him his family was right there on that island. Kala was his mother and Miller and Lincoln were the best friends he could ask for. The rest of the Grounder tribe had accepted Bellamy as their own. He was a skilled hunter and skilled strategist, earning him a spot on the tribal council headed by Tristan. The council would gather to discuss any important movements of the tribe or any broken edicts by a member of the tribe (there were rules even in the jungle) and neither thieves nor murderers got away without apt punishment. The only person who treated Bellamy as an outsider was the chief-his father Tristan.

Bellamy did see him as a father figure. Tall and commanding Chief Tristan was a fierce man with the tribes' interests at the forefront of his mind. He had allowed Bellamy to join the council because he grudgingly acknowledged the young man's cleverness, but that did not make their interactions any more pleasant. Tristan gave him gruff greetings and if they spoke during council meetings it was curt and only the necessary amount of courteous. Kala had reassured Bellamy it had nothing to with him and that might have been true but it didn't change the fact that Tristan would have preferred his wife never found Bellamy at all.

Bellamy had moved out of the family tent when he was twelve, finding his own among the other boys his age. Miller was two years younger and he idolized Bellamy. It made him faithfully loyal and particularly gullible to Bellamy's pranks. Lincoln was the oldest of the group at fifteen and he served as the sobering figure, keeping their antics to the appropriate level. Or at least he tried to. Bellamy was the ringleader of mischief. It got him onto trouble more often than not.

"How are you not afraid of the chief?" Miller asked.

"What, you are?"

"Absolutely terrified. He ordered me to light the main fire last night but his voice surprised me and I lit myself on fire." Miller showed them the mild burns on his calves.

Bellamy shook his head.

"He's just a man, Miller. Flesh and blood like the rest of us."

"If you say so. Frankly, I don't know how you have the nerve to talk back to him."

"And so often." Lincoln put in.

Bellamy glared at them.

"The chief isn't always right. His ideas are antiquated and as part of the council I have the right to stand up for my beliefs."

"There's our future chief." Lincoln patted him heavily on the back.

"Ouch, watch it, you giant."

Lincoln grinned as Miller chuckled.

"You gonna lead us to modernization, Bells?"

"Don't call me that." He growled and Miller held his hands up in surrender. "I don't want to lead anyone anywhere."

"But if you think Tristan is antiquated, your solution would be to find civilization, wouldn't it?" Lincoln reasoned.

"If you're referring to civilization as wherever the hell I came from, then no. I don't remember it and frankly I don't give a damn if I ever return. This is my home. No matter what Tristan believes." The last part was said under his breath but Lincoln heard him clearly.

"Don't let it get to you. You do have what it takes to lead this tribe. You know that, don't you?"

"Even if I did, there's one crucial part in the process of becoming chief that I have no desire to complete."

Miller grinned evilly.

"You mean your beautiful nuptials with the tribe's resident princess?"

Bellamy smacked him on the back of the head. Miller cursed at the hit, moving closer to Lincoln and further away from Bellamy in case of future attacks.

"What's the matter, hotshot? Can't handle the thought of Anya as your beloved bride?"

"Shut up, Linc. You hate Anya as much as I do. Don't even pretend like you don't." Bellamy glowered.

Anya was known as the Grounder princess because of her superiority complex. Her father was a hailed warrior, who had played a major role in the civil war of the tribe decades ago. Hundreds had died as a permanent chief and council was established-the position given to the leader of the winning side: Tristan. Anya's father was Tristan's right hand man and her mother was the tribe's only healer. Anya carried herself with arrogance and self-importance. She was aggressive in personality, inheriting her father's physical strength, and a talented artisan. She helped fashion the tribe's pottery, shelter, and the clothing of both men and women.

Anya was an impressive woman and was graced with an exotic beauty-high cheekbones, intense eyes, dirty blonde hair and long, lithe limbs- that she was very aware of. She had many suitors begging for her hand in marriage but she had renounced them all, stating that she would only marry a future chief.

The position of chief was not inherited by bloodline (Bellamy would stand no chance if that were so) but by merit. For example, Tristan earned the position for his valor in the war. There were no wars at the moment but the hunters of the tribe-men who helped with survival- were all eligible. Miller had admitted he had no chance whatsoever because he was a sucky hunter who preferred standing on guard duty the whole day so he could interact with the tribe's children and flirt with Monroe when he wanted.

Lincoln never mentioned his ambitions, but Bellamy knew his friend had declined a seat at the council because the politics involved were tiring. He was fonder of exploring the forests and providing for the tribe without having to participate in trying meetings.

Bellamy had imagined himself as chief on more than one occasion but he had more doubts than certainties about the idea. He didn't know if he could handle the pressures of leadership (he had a short temper most days) and he didn't think Tristan would support him if he tried. There was also the matter of the chief having a wife. It was Grounder law that the man needed the woman to balance him and for a chief it was mandatory to have a capable woman at his side. Chief Tristan had Kala and Bellamy knew his mother offered advice deep into the night where the couple had serious discussions about anything and everything.

If Bellamy became chief the best match for his wife would be Anya, but they would be a political match at the most. They would have little trust and zero affection, let alone love. Tristan and Kala had been through a lot (including the death of their child) but there was genuine love between them. Bellamy wanted to say he had the same. If only there were another woman, the _right_ woman for him.

"Bellamy! Hey, get your head out of the clouds. We're due back for the day's hunt." Lincoln had given him a light shove to bring him back to reality.

"Plus, you have the chief's daily lecture to look forward to. That guy must have told on us by now." Miller reminded them and Bellamy rolled his eyes.

"Great."

* * *

Clarke rolled out of bed, feeling both disoriented and tired as if she hadn't just slept seven hours. She didn't think she would get seasick and she wasn't exactly vomiting over the side of the boat, but her headaches were getting worse and if she stood or bent down too quickly, her vision would blur and a dizzy spell took over. Octavia had gone to speak to the captain in hopes of discovering how far they were from the supposed Australia.

Three weeks on the sea had proved rough and not as much as an adventure as either girl would have wanted. Octavia was relatively healthy but she was always bored and complaining about every little thing to Clarke, who only wanted to drink fruit juice and lay on her bed with a pillow over her eyes. They should have reached the island by now and yet here they were floating somewhere past the familiar European plain.

Clarke slowly righted herself, splashing water on her face from a small pitcher in the corner of the room. She changed from the flimsy nightdress to a comfortable long sleeved white blouse and brown pants with brown boots. It was abnormal for a woman to wear such clothing but Clarke could care less. She was on a boat in uncharted waters with a crew of men and her best friend looking for an island where fashion was certainly not of import to the natives or wild animals. Her mother had taken her shopping before the trip and they'd had to order custom-made pants and loose blouses for Clarke because the most comfortable option for a woman then was a calf-long skirt and tight blouse buttoned to the neck. The boots had been bought in the smallest men's sizes. Clarke hadn't really minded.

Octavia had some pants and shirts as well, but she strutted around in cotton dresses anyway. Clarke had convinced her to leave the silk and velvet ones at home but Octavia was dead set on looking perfect when she found her family. Clarke hadn't had the heart to argue with the girl.

After tying the boots Clarke made her way to the main deck, looking for her best friend and hoping some fresh air would ease the pounding in her head.

_Doubtful but a girl can dream…_

Clarke was preoccupied in her search for Octavia and so she didn't realize she was heading straight for an unsuspecting body. She gasped as she crashed into the back of the man in front of her and would have fallen if he hadn't turned and gripped her upper arms to steady her.

"Morning, Princess."

"Murphy, I've asked you to stop calling me that."

"I apologize. You're a beautiful one and I call them like I see them. I can find another nickname if you'd like."

"My name is fine."

He grinned mockingly.

"Alright, _Clarke_."

Clarke glared at him. She wanted to strangle Octavia for choosing this man to serve as their guide/protector through the forests. Yes, John Murphy had served as a capable guide on various safaris and expeditions, but he was a strange man with lurking danger behind his blue eyes. Clarke knew he had more than one hunting rifle in his cabin as well as several machetes, but she didn't exactly trust that he wouldn't turn them on her. He seemed like the type to turn on someone to suit his own needs, like an offer for more money. Clarke suspected he had a criminal past even though Octavia had scoffed at her for suggesting it.

"I was just looking for Octavia. Have you seen her?"

"She's with the captain."

"Thanks." She gave a forced smile and walked away.

The less time she spent with Murphy the better. She swore she could see a glint in her eyes that said "I've killed countless people before and I liked it" but she hadn't told Octavia that.

Octavia was conversing with the captain when she found her. The captain was a gentle man around her dad's age who treated them with utter respect and kindness. He smiled when Clarke came into the room and gestured for her to join them at the wheel.

"Good news, Ms. Griffin. We've spotted land and we're anchoring the ship at the shore."

"Thank God." Clarke breathed, but seeing the look on Octavia's face she sensed there was more to it than that. "What is it, O? You don't look pleased at the news."

"The captain didn't tell you the bad news."

"Bad news?"

"And the horrible news." Octavia said bitterly.

"Horrible news? Captain, what is it?" Clarke asked worriedly.

He hesitated before replying.

"We have not reached Australia."

"But I thought you spotted land." Clarke said, brow furrowed.

"Yes, but by my maps and calculations we are not at the reported location for Australia. Projections for the island's position were made by other explorers and sea captains, but our location does not match those coordinates."

"Ok, then why is the ship heading to that island?"

"This is the horrible news." Octavia chirped and the captain sighed.

"We are nearly out of supplies. The food supply is low and the fuel needed to supply the engines is lower. We have enough to return to the last port near Friens Island."

"But we need to get to Australia, not some island nearby."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Griffin, but like I was telling Ms. Blake there is no way to reach Australia with our supplies. I thought you might want to explore the island while the crew and I returned to the port to resupply our stores. When we return we can continue the voyage to Australia."

Clarke shook her head and stared at the deck of the ship. She and Octavia weren't interested in any _sightseeing_. They were looking for people they loved and Clarke's research was not for fun but to save lives. She needed to find those plants.

"How long will it take for you to come back?" she finally asked.

Octavia's head snapped towards her, expression fixed in incredulity.

"You can't seriously be considering stopping on that island! We have no idea what lives there! What if a wild animal rips our heads off?"

"We're at risk of animal attacks in Australia too and besides you brought Murphy for a reason, didn't you?"

Octavia exhaled in frustration.

"I need to find my family, Clarke!"

"We won't make it to them until the ship is resupplied! You've been bored out of your mind these past weeks. You really want to stay on this damn ship any longer than you have to? We have tents and dozens of suitcases with our things. We can make camp near the shore to be ready as soon as the boat returns. We will find them, O, I promised you we would and I don't break my promises."

"No, you don't." she admitted.

"Ok, then pack your things. We're going to shore. I'll tell Murphy to be ready."

Octavia looked back at the ocean before facing Clarke again and nodding.

"Okay."

**The next chapter will definitely have the Bellarke meeting! I'll try to update soon and then add a chapter to Highway to Hell (my Supernatural/the 100 crossover story) if you're following that story as well.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Of First Meetings and Realizations

Bellamy ignored his friends' voices as he scaled up the large tree and gripped a thick jungle vine, preparing to swing through the forests. It was a skill he'd picked up since he was a kid. He'd taken to howling and screaming nonsensical things as he swung from vine to vine. Early on he'd scared the life out of Kala after numerous falls from high up, but he eventually learned how to balance his weight and use his momentum to move swiftly and silently miles above the ground. He utilized the vines as an escape now.

This case in particular had to do with the chief. As Miller had predicted, the moment the three arrived at the village, Tristan awaited them, features as stern as always. He tore into Bellamy at the blink of an eye, accusing him of being an immature, selfish imbecile.

"_Somehow you think you can behave like a child and become the chief of this tribe? Grow up, Bellamy, you'll never be more than a piss poor warrior, at best." _

The words stung but the utter humiliation he'd received in front of all the Grounder tribe was too much to bear. Bellamy knew his mother would be worried if he stayed out all night, but seeing all the people he knew after they'd witnessed such a blow to his pride… No. He'd deal with the consequences of leaving the village after dark later.

Swinging through the jungle that had nurtured him, the only home he could put a face to, Bellamy took a deep breath and tried to remind himself he was content to be a Grounder and content to forget he'd come from a distant land with forbidden words like "civilization" and "society."

It didn't work and despite the love he felt for his tribe and for his mother, Bellamy felt an overwhelming sensation of loss, like he'd been ripped away from something precious and was just feeling the effect of that emptiness.

That may have been why his hands almost slipped from their hold on the vine at the sight of a young blonde woman stumbling frantically through the forests as a herd of rabid boars charged after her, not only because she was a complete stranger but because a part of him was telling him she was more than that.

* * *

"I'm staying right here, Clarke. If you want to trek through dirt and weeds searching for plan samples, that's up to you." Octavia said smartly, lying comfortably on a blanket with her eyes closed as the sun added a healthy glow to her already tan skin.

"You're going to sunbathe all day?"

"Yep. Murphy's setting up our camp and until I get hungry, I think this is the best way to spend my time."

On the one hand Clarke was glad her friend had decided to enjoy herself instead of torturing herself with morbid thoughts and images about her family. On the other hand, Clarke was not looking forward to traipsing through unknown jungle on her own. She knew she could ask Murphy to accompany her but she'd rather bite her own arm off then ask him for help, so she would go it alone. They'd arrived on the island hours earlier and no beast had tried to attack them. It was possible the animals were tame or at least deep enough into the forest that they wouldn't have to meet.

With those naïve thoughts in mind, Clarke grabbed her pack-filled with a small water canteen, a pack of nuts, her sketchbook and writing utensils, and a hunting knife she'd pressured Murphy into giving her- and pushed her way into the wild.

She hadn't gone more than a mile when she heard the twig snap behind her. Clarke's head snapped up from where it had been focused on scrutinizing the flower clusters for the mythical _orionisis cautelis _(the flower of healing). Her hand went to her bag and once the hunting knife was clutched in her right hand she chanced a step toward the sound. Big mistake.

Seconds later Clarke was running for her life as what seemed to be feral boards the size of a Great Dane stampeded after her. Her breathing had grown heavy and she'd dropped her knife somewhere along the way. She didn't want to waste a breath on a scream. No one knew where she was and those who could help her were too far away. She could feel her legs grow weaker and soon she'd have to stop and the boars would slaughter her. All Clarke could think was that she'd failed Octavia getting herself killed so stupidly.

O would be pissed and above that _crushed_ at the death of yet another loved one. It wasn't fair on the girl and Clarke hated her own recklessness and poor decision making as her fatigue overcame her and she stopped, her chest heaving with exertion. She turned and saw the boars picking up speed as they sensed their prey had given up. Clarke closed her eyes and murmured goodbyes to her parents and Octavia before something slammed into her and suddenly she was flying.

* * *

Bellamy struggled with the weight of the girl as he swung her to the safety of the sturdy branches of the upper trees. She was not particularly heavy but he had no practice with carrying women on jungle vines, so it took all the muscle in his body to achieve the task. When he deposited her on the branch her previously closed eyes opened and in that instant Bellamy swore he felt his world stop.

The woman had blonde curls cluttering the sides of her face and sticking to her neck and she was of average height (meaning a _lot_ shorter than him) and her beauty was clear but her eyes… were something else altogether.

The Grounder tribe was a diverse group made up of centuries of genetic evolution but dark eyes had always been a given. Monroe was the closest thing to an anomaly with her faded blue eyes bordering on a faintly luminescent black. This woman's eyes, though, were an electric blue with flecks of gold on the background allowing for a softer look altogether. Said eyes were narrowed on him with evident distrust and fear.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you. I saw the boars were after you and I knew I could help. Are you injured?" Bellamy asked.

Her sapphire eyes widened as his lips moved in quick succession with his words but she did not respond. He asked his question again but still she only stared at him. Just as he thought she was deaf or mentally incapacitated, her pink lips parted and foreign sounds came out of her mouth. He tilted his head in confusion, listening to her "talk" and then understood the problem.

"We don't speak the same language, do we?"

Her resulting silence was all the answer he needed.

* * *

Clarke was still processing the fact that she'd survived so taking in the incredibly attractive man that had popped out of thin air and somehow rescued her was taking some time. She had her back against a tree, resting all her weight on a large tree branch suspended hundreds of feet from the ground and she'd apparently gotten there because this man had swung them both there using vines.

To top it off said handsome man was speaking in a language she was not aware existed. It didn't sound like French or Spanish or even Dutch (all tongues she'd heard in passing around the bustle of London) and that could only mean a new language from a new people. Where the hell was she, seriously?

"I don't know what you're saying and I'm going to assume my words are gibberish to you." She said and the man reciprocated with more foreign jargon.

Clarke ran a hand over her face and decided to take a breather. Too much had happened in one day and the least she could do was make herself more comfortable for the ride. She reached into her pack to grab a hair tie and pulled her frizzing curls into a high ponytail before taking a long sip of her canteen. The man watched her in an intense silence that she wished she could say unnerved her but in actuality made her oddly pleased.

"Thirsty?" she held out the canteen and he studied both it and her outstretched hand before shaking his head.

She capped the canteen and put it away, turning back to her with renewed interest. That had been progress. He'd read her actions and answered with his own so obviously he was intelligent. He must come from a tribe of people with their own language and customs. It was fascinating to have found one of the things she was looking for without even reaching Australia. Of course the priority was Octavia's family and the medicinal plants, but Clarke could compromise for now.

"I think it would help if we got to know each other. I could write what I'm saying out to you in my sketchpad… but that wouldn't work because the language is still different. Crap. I guess we could try it like this." She cleared her throat and placed her hand on her chest, making sure to look the man in the eyes. "I'm _Clarke_." She enunciated, repeating her name a few more times while keeping her hand on her chest.

When he had time to take that in she moved her hand in a gesture towards him and raised an eyebrow expectantly. His brow furrowed and his long eyebrows were drawn in as he analyzed what she'd done thoughtfully. She waited patiently and was rewarded when one of his large hands moved to his bare chest and his gruff voice formed one word-one name- she was well acquainted with.

"Bellamy."

She nearly fell from the tree.

* * *

Bellamy lunged forward, steadying the blonde woman-Clarke- with his arms. She was avoiding his gaze and instead staring fixedly at his chest, probably at the tribal markings inked onto his shoulders and biceps.

"Clarke." He tried the name out and her cerulean eyes reluctantly met his.

The proximity was having a similar effect on them both. Clarke had never been so close to a half-naked man before (Bellamy was after all only in what passed as a loincloth) and his arms were still wrapped around her waist. His skin was hot and she imagined her own was just as warm from the island sun. For Bellamy, the encounter was not as strange since he _had_ slept with more than one girl in the village, but there had never been more than a purely sexual reason to engage with a woman. Obviously, he was attracted to Clarke because she was extremely attractive, but more than that he was fascinated by her.

Bellamy had always been curious and in boyhood it had cost him a fall into an alligator swamp and several sprained ribs from losing his hold on tree branches or jagged rock cliffs. That might have been why he resolutely decided he would learn everything there was to know about this woman.

Clarke cleared her throat and her eyes went pointedly to his arms encompassing her small waist so he immediately removed them and moved out of her personal space. Step one: make her comfortable enough not to run from you. Step two: try and communicate.

_Easier said than done_, he thought.

* * *

Clarke knew he didn't remember her and above that didn't remember who he was. He'd retained his name but wherever he lived now, most likely with an island tribe, it was a different world. Her chest ached as she studied him, all supple muscles and olive skin. His hair was in messy curls around his sculpted features and his brown eyes were vibrant as if he'd inhaled the chaotic energy of the forest. He was _beautiful _and _mysterious _but Clarke didn't lose hope. She would help him remember.

Clarke shifted closer and raised one hand to his face. He pulled away from her on the tree branch but she followed him, her eyes reminiscent of the sea after a storm-soothing azure. Bellamy stayed completely still as her palm cupped his face and the tips of her fingers ghosted over the freckles dusting his cheeks.

"I remember you, Bellamy. I promise you'll remember Octavia and your parents and England… and me." Her voice grew quiet and he regarded her thoughtfully, reading the sorrow in her face.

She shook herself out of the past and removed her hand from his face, shooting him a sheepish look. Bellamy graced her with a broad grin and before she could blink both of his large hands were holding her face, his fingers copying the motions her own had done on his face.

"Clarke." He repeated and she laughed.

"We're going to work on the common language thing. If I taught Octavia French I can reteach you English."

Bellamy nodded, not understanding the words but comprehending enough to figure she was on board with finding a method of communication. Silence fell between them again and Bellamy realized he still held her face in his hands. Her skin was smooth under his calloused fingers and the contact was causing a strange tingle through his body. He noticed he was leaning in closer and closer when her warm breath caressed his lips.

"What are you doing?" she asked and he watched the rosy lips move but only moved closer until their lips were a mere centimeter from-

_BOOM_

Bellamy jumped back from Clarke at the loud sound coming from somewhere in the forest.

"Murphy." Clarke growled, annoyed the asshole guide had ruined whatever had been about to happen between her and Bellamy.

"Murphy?" Bellamy questioned.

"Yeah, Murphy. _Total dick_." She spat.

"Murphy. Total dick." Bellamy nodded and Clarke's eyes widened before bursting into laughter.

Bellamy picked up some words easier than others and when she enunciated the syllables it was simple for him. It would come in handy for later. She was already planning the picture books and projections she could show him.

"Clarke!"

_Crap. Octavia. I didn't consider my best friend at all. _

Clarke considered telling Octavia about finding Bellamy, but ultimately decided against it. Bellamy wouldn't remember his sister (she'd been a newborn when he left her) and judging by his appearance he was living with a native tribe and most likely wasn't with his parents. That would mean Mr. and Mrs. Blake were dead. The news would overwhelm Octavia and Clarke would rather save her friend the pain until she could present her brother properly, speaking English and remembering that he had a sister in the first place.

"I have to go." Clarke said, an urgency Bellamy didn't miss in her tone. "Go." She said, pointing downwards.

"Go." Bellamy agreed and stood, pulling the nearest vine to him.

He extended his hand to Clarke and she took it but not before making various gestures and slipping in words that basically translated to "You can't be seen so stay quiet."

Bellamy swung them down to the jungle floor and as Clarke heard the approaching footsteps of Murphy and Octavia, she turned to Bellamy.

"You have to go."

"Go?" Bellamy asked, slightly irritated because he believed they had already done 'Go.'

"You." She pointed at him. "Go." She pointed back up to the trees. "Now."

She made a sweeping motion and Bellamy chuckled at the blonde's elaborate gestures. She was as funny as she was beautiful.

"Now. Go." He chirped, taking one of her hands and placing the kiss they'd been denied earlier on the back of her palm.

And then he was gone and Clarke was left to face the wrath of her best friend.

"You've been gone hours. What the hell?! You want me to lose my mind with worry!"

Murphy rolled his eyes at Octavia's dramatics.

"Can we please settle down and have some freaking food now? Lunch was hours ago." He gave Clarke a perfunctory glare before going back the way he'd come.

"Whatever, Murphy. I don't answer to you and I'm sorry, O, I didn't realize how much time had passed. I was exploring and sketching in my book. There's research to be done here too. I'll be doing it more often."

"Fine, I'd just like a warning next time. God."

"Sorry, O."

They began walking back to their camp but Clarke quickened her steps to catch up to Murphy.

"Why the hell were you shooting in the forest? I heard you wasting bullets before. Unless something's trying to kill you, you shouldn't be shooting at it. It'll scare off other animals and disrupt this ecosystem." She chastised.

Murphy shot her an unimpressed look and huffed a laugh.

"The day I listen to you is the day I die, Princess."

"My name is Clarke." She snarled.

"So it is. I was hired as a guide and protector not a tree hugger or animal cuddler, like you choose to be."

Clarke fell into step with Octavia and settled for glowering at the man's back.

_I stand by what I said earlier. Murphy is a total dick. If a wild boar wants to run him down, well let's say I won't be shedding tears over it.  
_


End file.
